


the world (and his mistress)

by sleep_pronoia (nap_princess)



Category: Electra Heart - Marina & the Diamonds (Album), Marina & the Diamonds, Original Work
Genre: Angst, Bad Ending, Cheating, Electra Complex, Electra Heart AU, F/M, Part five
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 03:05:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16802392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nap_princess/pseuds/sleep_pronoia
Summary: "Barbie, is there any possible way that you could think for a second about what somebody else might think of you?"– Electra Heart-centric, Part five: Su-barbie-a





	the world (and his mistress)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Electra Heart albumn](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/436942) by Marina and the Diamonds. 



** the world (and his mistress) **

* * *

Every boyfriend is 'the one' until otherwise proven,  
The good are never easy, the easy never good,  
And love never happens the way it really should

– **Marina and the Diamonds** , _Homewrecker_

* * *

* * *

She leans in to kiss him at the altar and he flinches. She _should have_ known – keyword ‘should have’. It was all over before it even started.

* * *

Marina ‘Electra Heart’ Diamandis has decided, _proclaimed_ to herself (if you must see it ‘that way’), that she _will_ leave her old days behind. To say that she’s tired would be an _understatement_.

She no longer wants to be an idle teen or a prom princess or some beauty queen. What Marina **wants** – is to be a homemaker, live a ‘simple’ suburban life. And, she says ‘simple’ because it _was_ a running joke a few years ago, that suburban wives are actually living a ‘sur-barbie-an’ life. But, _now_ , Marina _thinks_ otherwise. She’s tired of being sad to the core – the rise and fall was never _that_ glamorous.

Being cheeky and mischievous … that primadonna life is over.

Marina **wants** to be content with what she has. She had asked for the world, hadn’t she? And now she has it. He’s popped _that pretty question_ and she’s got a diamond ring wrapped around her finger, just like him (or so she thinks).

It’s nice. _More than nice_.

* * *

Marina remembers a time when she _didn’_ t believe him. Didn’t **want** to believe his gesture of love.

(And maybe she never should have)

She remembers _that moment_ exactly in detail. She remembers the curve of his jaw, bumping against her blonde dyed curls; the look in his eyes, his warm hand intertwined with hers. Marina remembers all of it because – at the time, she had found it oh-so-hilarious, _another boyfriend_ that’s fallen for her same old tricks.

“Oh, candy bear.” She giggles, sweetly (read ‘tauntingly’), as she places her head on his shoulder, fitting just like an elegant glove. She swore all the sounds around her disappeared and the only thing that was repetitive and loud was his heart. Ba-dump! B-dump!

Ah, time to sink her teeth in.

Then Marina looks at him, letting him gaze into her dark eyes. Slowly, she starts hearing sounds again, like a radio being turned up. He looks at her face, then her lips (and she noticed).

_Bingo._

They kissed.

He holds her close, hands on her shoulders, forcing her to look at him and nowhere else. "I think I’m in love with you, Electra." He tells her.

And Marina knows she **shouldn’t** feel the same. Shouldn’t feel _anything_ , really – because love is a game and she’s just selfish. But, she … thinks (?) … she feels her heart skip and her pulse race or _something._

Wha – _What?_ What’s going on?

She's stricken with fear.

_No._ Marina thinks denyingly. He **can't** possibly mean that. _He can't_. Because if what he says is true, then she'll have a new fear in her life – of him realising he's made a horrible mistake.

"Don't you believe me?" He asks when she doesn't say anything back. He must have read the expression on her face.

"I ...." Her nails dig deeply into her palm before blurting out recklessly and truthfully, "You'll take it back, I know you will. You'll turn around and run away."

.

.

.

{ you’ve gotta be the first to run }

.

.

.

But, he didn’t.

He stayed. He stayed _for months._ The longest record any boy has ever held in her heart, and –

And, it was _so much fun_.

Marina was having so much fun, and it didn’t make a lick of sense to her. She doesn't … She doesn’t think she's been _half_ this happy in her entire life. It was fun but also so-very confusing. She didn’t understand _why_ but she just wanted his sweet (dark) love.

…

(Later, she learns, it’s more than she could ever handle because –

"Sweetie pie …" Came Marina's words as she plays with the golden band around her fourth finger. "Do you love me?” _More than her?_

.

.

.

“I don’t even like you.” Came his response)

* * *

Contrary to popular belief – her husband is a nice man.

He is a nice person. He says 'good morning' and 'good night' to her every day without fail and always makes an effort to smile at her (because, let's face it, it takes effort to smile at a woman whom he is married to but does not love).

Her husband does attempt polite conversation. He speaks gently to her and never touches her in a way she hates and he washes the dishes after dinner even though he doesn't need too. Because, let’s face it, he is the breadwinner of the two and Marina a housewife that has nothing to do, so …

_So_ anything to do in the house, even if it’s simply chores, is something exciting to do.

Even if Marina now realises that she _doesn’t_ want to be a housewife. Anyone who knows her knows Marina wants adventure and wildness. Correction, anyone who knows Electra Heart knows she wants adventure and wildness.

But Marina has given that up now, hasn't she? She's an entirely different person now – a homemaker. And she couldn’t risk losing that title. Oh, no no no. Not after flaunting her big diamond ring and boasting how she’s going to live a better life than everyone she knows. She did this to herself. Marina set herself up.

And now, she just has to sit still and look pretty, be prim and proper, cook and clean. Maybe scrapbook if she doesn't feel like reading or having tea in the afternoon. God, _it was boring_. But she's so **damn scared** of what others would _think_ of her if she were to do anything she _actually_ likes. Tainting a reputation she’s tiredly built … how could she _ever_ self-sabotage herself like that when she’s looking like a shining star?

She couldn’t possibly do that.

* * *

Things have been going sour between the two.

At least, Marina thinks so. Maybe she’s paranoid? Maybe she’s being insecure. But she believes they’re growing apart. She feels he is lying to her with a smile and false security. He’s been working longer hours and leaving her all alone in this big house that she begged him to buy.

**Where are you?** She sends him a text, as insecure as always.

**Will update soon.** His message reads ...

But he never does. It sits and waits and waits then waits some more. He doesn't touch the damn thing because he's convinced, she doesn't care. She never tells him that he's wrong.

* * *

Looking back at her youth, Marina could say that she was stupid. Foolish, even.

A fool in love.

She didn't understand (and she hates that she _doesn’t_ because it makes her feel even more stupid). They were in bed, he had decided to scoop her, _his wife_ , up and attempt conversation. A conversation that had become more than pleasant. One minute, they were having the times of their lives; they were a tangle of limbs, with his back pressed against the cold headboard and her head on his beating chest, ear pressed and listening to his barrelful laughter. Then the next minute, it hits her.

_How could he?_ Marina thinks and is suddenly mute. She thought she was the girl he'd die for but she’s not. And – sickeningly as it sounds, she still wants him. She still wants his love. She still wants to steal him back with a kiss.

Marina keeps quiet, snapping her mouth closed and staring at anywhere but his eyes. It was like she had suddenly dropped dead and died right in front of him.

"What's the matter?" He asks hurriedly, trying to push himself up but her weight was keeping him still.

When Marina didn't answer, he truly thought she was dead. He remembers his smile dropping and his eyes feeling hungry, searching for an answer. 

"Hey. _Hey_. What's wrong?" He asks again.

Her lips part slightly. He knows this, despite not being able to see her face, because he hears her inhale sharply.

" _You_ are." She finally says. "You're wrong. You're all wrong."

He didn’t say anything to her strong weeping. In fact, he turned the other cheek because he believed it made her feel better.

* * *

After that small meltdown, _he_ takes _his true love_ on an escape. Someplace. Anyplace. They are driving to the beach with the wind flowing through their hair and some pop music playing on the radio. 

"I love you." He confesses, one hand dangerously intertwined with hers instead of both laying on the steering wheel. He acts like Romeo. Does he want to die? Maybe. Boys like danger, even if it’s a small taste, a little danger.

Beside him, _she_ laughs freely, feet on the dashboard of his car. Dark coloured eyes peer at him behind big, heart-shaped sunglasses, it’s as dark as her soul, as dark as the night.

Everything is perfect; the sun is high, there is no cloud in the blue sky and – oh, before he forgets, his wife isn't here either!

* * *

He is careful when he comes home. He never leaves any marks or stains on his collar nor strands of hair on his coat. However, he cannot get rid of _that_ scent; it sticks and lingers, and she resents that about him.

A part of Marina wishes he was better at being sneaky. Maybe even take up smoking to hide the sickeningly sweet smell. Another part of her doesn’t want to admit the truth. Maybe if she ignores it then it won't become a reality. A big part of her wants to be ignorant, wants him to tell her he likes the dress she’s wearing or she’ll sticking her head right in the oven.

Though he does not greet her at the door, he does immediately come into the kitchen to help her cook after putting down his briefcase. "How was your day?" He asks, polite as always, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. He remembers to smile at her as he speaks.

"Boring." Marina answers. Now, she thinks she is grateful for the news on the TV because at least the horrors on screen keeps her distracted and tells her that she is not the only human being crumbling in this cruel world. She eyes his perfectly combed hair – Ah, he remembered to tidy up. Marina asks, "And you?"

"Tiring but I managed. The stock exchange is as exciting as it gets."

_Better than being cooped up_. Marina says, silently, in her head.

She knows he's only attempting conversation because he wants to give himself a reason to be here with all the food smells in the kitchen. He would suspicious if he were to immediately shower and dump his clothes into the washing machine.

"Hmm," Marina hums, the new start of her rebellion. She won’t give him that satisfaction of her knowing so shoves a kitchen knife into his hands. Not to kill her, of course. Though maybe that's a better alternative than being stuck in a nightmare where everything she does is wrong. "Dice these vegetables for me, will you? You're so much better at it than me."

He lets out a good-natured laugh. “You’re too kind.” He says to her compliment ten tells her, "I love you."

_No, you don’t._ She says again. Only in her thoughts again.

* * *

{ “It's quick-curl Barbie and mod-hair Ken!”

“But what do I do with my old Barbie?” }

* * *

"You know," Her husband says to her, "You don't have to be _so distant._ I understand you’re _mad_ but you are _still my wife_ and I your husband."

They’ve been fighting a lot. Actually, no – she’s the one who usually starts it. She’s been pushing him around, demanding things and asking for more more _more._

She looks at him, blinking her long lashes then spits, "You're just saying that because you want to fuck tonight."

A beat follows after. Marina counts in her head, how long can the silence go on? How long can she get away with this? One, two, three –

"No." He shakes his head. There is no ulterior motive, he means what he says. "It's because you are my wife."

Marina looks at him again, longer this time. She doesn't understand what he means. Isn't that the same thing? He's just confusing her, he's comparing apples and oranges but all she sees is a stupid fruit. Either way, he's to proud to sat that he's made a mistake. He's a coward 'til the end.

* * *

{ "I don't like tea, I like Gin." }

.

.

.

"I want you." She says one day after denying and pushing him away for oh-so-long. There's a slur in her voice as she wraps her arms around his neck. She doesn't ask about his lateness or just a tossed hair or the mark on his neck.

"You're drunk, Electra." He says simply and Marina cringes from that name. She told him to call her ‘Marina’, she had put her ‘Electra Heart’ days away just for him!

“So what?” Marina thinks then realises she had said it aloud. She swallows her words after that. She never wants to tells him how she feels. Because the one time that she does, he rejects her.

He pries her fingers off him.

She wants to scream. She's tried so hard. _So damn hard_ to be this Barbie doll, this suburban picture-perfect housewife! It's something she's not but did she try (only to feel like a nobody).

.

.

.

{ Come on, baby, let's just get drunk, forget we don't get on }

.

.

.

"You don't love me, do you?" Marina asks. Liquid courage taking over her.

He stares at her – shocked at first, then accepting. "No." He says finally after a beat. His tone is strong and confirming. "No, I don't love you."

Big fucking deal. She'll never tell him how she feels. Never again.

* * *

Her dangling earring sways, catching light and shinning. Marina looks pretty, but all the diamonds in the world _wouldn't_ ever make her happy. _Couldn't_ make her happy, actually.

"Why did you have to ruin everything?" Came her harsh words as she prepares for bed. All these words tossed around, they are cruel and it hits him harder than anything in this world possibly can.

He had finally admitted it.

This _must_ be a joke! She feels like this is some sort of joke. A prank just to see her reaction! If not -

If not ... why is she here?

She didn't make the cut, she's not the main lead – she hasn't got the starring role in his heart.

_A mistress!_ She screams in her head. _You took your fucking mistress out in public! How could you?! How could you show her off like that and leave me in this stupid house that we can’t even call home!_

_Is it wrong to want to be loved?_ He asks back in his head.

He blinks and takes it the sight of his wife’s shoulders disappearing into the bathroom before he is left with only himself. He sits on their bed the same way he sits on his hands. His work tie loose around his neck like a noose ready to hang and all he can do is stare at himself in the vanity; the dip of his shirt, his hair falling over his tired eyes, the lipstick marks and hickeys he no longer tries to avoid or disguise. Is this what war inside a human looks like?

Marina comes back a minute later, **never** quiet, always reminding him of her presence as if her appearance isn't loud enough. Blonde hair and demanding eyes. _God_ , why couldn't he be like her with that American tan? Why is he so pale? Pale enough to disappear.

"Are you even listening?" Came her words again.

He takes a shaky breath in.

'I wish I wasn't,' He says. Loudly. In his head ...

* * *

Through the clinking of forks and knives, he asks her a pressing question over dinner, "Can you ever forgive me?”

Marina turns her head ever so slightly and smiles. She tells him dramatically, “Well …”

_Well,_ it’s because she knows of his secret and he is a terrible keeper. Her husband is not a bad man (per se) but she still thinks so horribly of him. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t understand her (and she him). Maybe it’s something else? Something more? Something less?

Marina just thinks, he’s not pulling his weight. While she's been trying so _fucking_ hard to be the perfect doll, he's gone off and done _something foolish_ – he’s fallen in love (with someone else)!

“… maybe.” She finishes her sentence.

“Why?” Came his second question.

Her eyebrows pinch together. _Why?_ “Because I care.” She answers.

His breath hitches. He stops eating. He may as well stop breathing too. “Care about what?”

Marina continues smiling and chewing on her dinner. She cares …

“Do you care about me?” He asks. “Do you care so much that you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you.” She says, not looking at him. She’s solely concentrated on the vegetables on the plate. This irks him.

“But you’ve been acting so cold lately, so distant. Isn’t that the same thing as hating me?” He wants her to look at him. Look. at. him. Damn it!

“No.” Came her reply, it’s as short as his temper.

He’s getting frustrated now. He throws his utensils on the plate so hard that it bounces off the table and crashes onto the floor. “Won’t you just tell me your feelings? Can’t you admit that you hate me?! What is this?!”

He’s shaking the table and she can’t stand it.

“I don’t hate you.” Marina repeats herself, now getting angry too. See! He doesn’t understand her!

“ _Okay, then_ , do you ‘not like me’ because I don’t love you?” He presses further and the questions feels like a shot to the stomach.

Her fingers clench and squeeze. She thinks she feels sick. “Why on earth –” Marina pronounces every syllable like it’s a threat. “– would you want to be in love with me?”

Who could ever? She can’t imagine! She can't imagine him loving her and her loving him back in return! He doesn’t know of his own foolishness but. she. does! She could **never** love someone like him! Never ever, ever –

Marina **cares** , alright! She cares about her status! If anyone were to find out what he had done, it would _ruin_ her. Ruin her name! Ruin this suburban housewife image! She had a figure like a pin-up girl! She could cook and make pretty cocktails. She’s the _perfect_ doll! What more could she give him? She gave him **everything**!

He’s ruining her life!

She stands now, so close to screaming her head off. “Don’t you get it?!” He clearly doesn’t. “I don’t love you!”

She doesn't love him, her heart doesn't hurt!

_It doesn’t!_ She lies but later finds herself on the floor, kneeling and crying into the lovely silk fabric of her skirts. These luxuries could never be enough.

* * *

She doesn’t love him, she tells herself because, _well_ –!

She has a brain, Marina tells herself. She's not one of those … those fools … those who do everything for their significant other only to be stepped on. She tells herself she will **never** be _that person_. Marina considers any person who falls in love a fool.

So then, why is she crying, you may ask? Well, it’s because _she cared._ She cared but she’s **not** in love, those are two entirely separate things. They’re different. At the ends of a spectrum.

* * *

She is, profoundly sad, to put it. Just a young heart and a confused mind. And he … he's being difficult, too much to handle, getting out of her hands. And the worst part is, she only has two.

No words can save this.

_Oh_ , how she wishes she could bury her face into her hands and cry deeply. There's nothing sadder than crying while driving. _Nothing sadder_ , she tells you.

Raising a hand in front of her face, she solemnly declares she hates the designs of low sunshades, the too bright sun and everything in between.

.

.

.

She’s outside the corner store, standing with the elegance of the prim lady that she is (and maybe even crying openly, but she won’t _ever_ admit that).

A thought comes to her mind as a frown is pressed on her lovely face; _only depress people smoke._

Yes. Marina will say that again: only depress people smoke and _everyone_ knows this. It is a fact, not fiction. There is **no benefit** , whatsoever, to smoking. She knows it and society knows it and the people who light their cigarettes knows this. It is a known fact; everyone dies and chain smokers, they … just want to speed up the process.

Holding a cigarette between her lips and two fingers, she thinks she looks almost graceful, but mostly, ready to arrive at death’s door.

* * *

She smells of smoke and ash, she guesses that is reasonable as she's the one standing by the fire with empty lighter fluid and a box of matches in her small, pretty hands. She wants to burn more things, perhaps bridges.

.

.

.

They’re watching _The Great Gatsby_ when Marina plucks up the courage to ask him. It’s that scene where Tom and Gatsby are arguing, the part where beautiful, foolish Daisy goes, _"I can't do this"_ while looking away and adds, _"You want too much, Jay."_

And Gatsby has this moment where he thinks – Surely, _surely not_. He's **never** wanted anything more in his life than Daisy. _His_ _Daisy_. Even if it was just the idea of her.

_"Now, Daisy darling."_ Gatsby utters, voice low enough just for her _. "I'm going to take care of you. You know I will. You just have to tell your husband that you don't love him."_

They’re sitting right next to each other; cheeks turned, hands on their laps and legs almost touching. They’re not holding hands or cuddling or doing anything _disgusting romantic_. ‘Disgusting’ because Marina now flinches at the thought of any display of affection, even if it’s done in a private setting.

She and her husband, they are … just watching a movie because they promised each other that they would watch it together (now, if only they could keep more promises to each other).

Putting on her brave face and pulling her husband away from the movie, Marina finally says to him, "Do you want a divorce?"

Marina turns fully to him now, sweeping blonde curls away from her face. Her cold, dead heart revives. She knows he shouldn't be looking at her that way; with hopeful eyes and a taming smile, but he is. It's almost sick. _Geez_ , look at how happiness fills his soul at such a declaration!

Her annoyance builds up and then disappears, it's confusing. _She’s confused_. She thinks, this is the first time she's **ever** made her husband happy.

But …

_But_ , suddenly she feels angry.

This scoundrel of a man! He's the one _who kissed her_! He did it, at. the. altar! _He_ promised _her_ he'd be faithful, not her! She didn't promise anything to him so why – WHY – is she the one getting upset and feeling incredibly lonely? Fuck this! _Fuck it_ , she's turning away from society's stupid homemaker standards!

* * *

Her mascara is leaking and leaving black spots on her white clothes. Her wedding dress; she is clutching onto the damn pure thing. Every time she's near this damn dress, she always finds herself crying.

It's funny, _very funny,_ the first time she wore her wedding dress, it was at a bridal store and she was saying to her friends, 'This one?'. The second time she wore it, she was at her own wedding and she remembers trying not to ruin her make-up with tears as she thinks to herself 'He could be the one?'. The many times after is when she's in a sobbing mess and asking herself, 'Am I the one?' and then the realisation of 'I know I'm not the only one.’

She thought he was the one (until otherwise proven)! He was so easy, so good! But ... love could never happen the way it really should.

_You can't trust bad boys, and you can't even trust good men! You can't trust anyone!_ Marina thinks, but, suddenly, Marina aches for the familiar like her exes. She's sad to the core.

"This is bullshit!" She screams through the empty house, vile words – too dirty for her lovely mouth. She's breathing _so hard_ yet she thinks she can't catch a breath, her mouth move but the only words that come out are wet.

Marina ends up snapping a muscle in her mouth from crying so hard. She'll show them – She'll show them what heartache and a homewrecker really feels like!

* * *

* * *

**end**

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Because deep down, we’re all dramatic sugar baby girls.  
> – 1 December 2018


End file.
